


A (Not-So) Quiet Breakfast

by Anonymous



Series: Honey & Wine [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), F/F, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Geralt enjoys an average midsummer breakfast with his family at Corvo Bianco.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii & Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Honey & Wine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995592
Comments: 38
Kudos: 140
Collections: Anonymous





	A (Not-So) Quiet Breakfast

Geralt stepped out onto the veranda and stretched in the weak, early morning sunlight. Green, flowering fields stretched out towards the horizon, and he spent a moment drinking in the tranquil ambience. Birds swooped down from the roof of the main house, taking advantage of the early hours before the workers arrived, to collect their breakfast from the fertile soil; plump worms, fallen seeds and fermenting fruit. He took a deep breath, chest expanding to its very limit, and filled his lungs with the scents of the countryside and the freshly cooked food awaiting him on the breakfast table.

Everyone else was still asleep. They’d stir soon; awoken by the promise of honey-filled porridge, fried meats, diced fruits and freshly baked bread. He didn’t have long to enjoy the peace. Geralt headed inside, scratching idly at the silvery-white stubble on his jaw as he walked into the dining room. “Morning, Barnabas.”

“Good morning, sir,” the majordomo said brightly. “Fresh orange juice from the Delacroixs on the next farm over. They thank you for your help with those archespores last week.”

“Hm,” Geralt nodded as he sat down at the head of the table, and then offered a small smile as Marlene bustled in with a serving platter heaped with diced fruit. “Great spread as always, Marlene.”

She placed the plate down near his elbow and swiped back a few stray, grey hairs that had fallen loose from her bun. “Feeding your brood is a full time job,” she sighed, although she was far from hard-pressed. When Geralt rescued her, it’d been many years since she’d shared a meal with another living soul; she relished the chance to feed her newly discovered family. Every meal was a reminder that she was valued. She belonged. “Here, let me get your porridge.” 

Geralt knew better than to dismiss Marlene’s offer. She liked mothering him, and he watched the light filter through her heavily lined face as she ladelled in a huge amount of oats, followed by an even bigger helping of fresh honey. Geralt’s sweet tooth was well known by all that lived on the estate. “And some fruit. Here. And make sure Eskel takes his medicine for his shoulder, oh, and I topped up the mistresses’ skin oils - Barnabas, come - I need your help with - .” She snapped her fingers and the majordomo excused himself from Geralt’s presence with a low bow.

_Ahh. Peace and qui -_

“Good morning,” Yen walked slowly into the dining room, one hand tucking raven locks behind her ear as she leaned down to place a kiss on Geralt’s cheek. “Would you like some porridge with that honey?”

“Don’t n - .”

“She’s right,” Eskel stifled a yawn and leaned down to butt his head against Geralt’s temple in greeting. As he straightened to find a seat, Yen brushed a hand affectionately over his chest in passing, and he cast her his most charming smile in return before relieving Geralt of his plate of fruit. “No amount of sweet will take the edge off your attitude, sourpuss.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes, lips quirked in amusement. Eskel was wearing one of his shirts, and Yen had opted to throw on one of her silk robes. The two teased and nipped at each other across the table; Yen threw a grape that hit Eskel squarely in the chest, and he grabbed the jug of water as she reached for it, only to pour her a glass with all the mock airs and graces of a gentleman; low bow, arm sweeping, mischievous smirk only partially obscured by his ruffled hair. 

Now that the two were distracted by each other, Geralt picked up his spoon with a contented sigh, and - 

“Geralt, we really must remove that bird’s nest from outside the bedroom window,” said a mellifluous voice; Geralt looked up as Dandelion slouched his way into the dining room, blonde curls bouncing, blue eyes still lidded. “It was all very _lovely_ at first. The idea of new life, of beautiful young chicks, but actually it’s just bloody annoying.”

“Can’t move nesting birds,” Eskel mumbled through a mouth full of apple slices. “Not done.”

“Pish-posh, they’re just small harpies, with mini-claws and all that annoying _shrieking_ ,” Dandelion threw himself into a seat next to Yen, head cocked to the side to present his cheek expectantly for a kiss; she acquiesced with a roll of her eyes. “Perhaps a little igni. And _poof_ , the birds are gone.”

“You’re so macabre,” Yen hid her smile behind the rim of her glass.

“That’s not what you said - ow,” Dandelion flinched as Eskel kicked him in the shin.

“Manners at the breakfast table.”

“Ha,” Dandelion waved him off and began piling his plate high with meat from the serving platter. “Marlene, Marlene! The _wine_ , good lady. I need to be well-lubricated if I’m to face the day after such an _awful_ night’s sleep.” 

If Geralt thought he’d now be able to return to his breakfast, he was sorely mistaken. Seconds later he heard two more familiar voices descending the stairs at his back. “I’m tellin’ you, squirt. All life’s problems can be solved with a dancing star bomb. You just gotta’ shove it deep enough,” Lambert explained with a sniff.

“A charging fiend? Your head’s full of wool,” Ciri replied. “A samum bomb is a must, or it’s going to hypnotise you into bending over for a - ah, mornin’ Dad and family unit.” She spread her arms out as she swept into the dining room, with Lambert at her heels.

“Eskel, back me up here,” Lambert murmured as he walked by. “Dancing star bomb. Only one you’ll ever need. The others are just academic.”

“Only if you’re not that worried about returning with a trophy.”

“Ha!” Ciri threw her hands up, before she plucked Geralt’s orange juice from the table and took it with her to a seat next to Dandelion’s right. “You’re just blow shit up first, and ask questions later, Lamberino.” 

“She’s not wrong,” Eskel nodded, and smirked as Lambert thumped him on the bicep before beginning to load his plate. Now sans fruit and orange juice, Geralt curled his arm protectively around his porridge. Not that he begrudged them. What was his was theirs, including his clothes, apparently. Eskel, Dandelion and Ciri all seemed to have located his clean laundry and decided that his shirts were more comfortable than their own gods-damned clothes.

Ciri and Lambert weren’t the last to arrive; Regis, Lambert’s partner Aiden, Triss with Priscilla on her arm and Zoltan all slunk in within the next twenty minutes and suddenly Geralt’s tranquil breakfast was a thing of the past. By the time they had all greeted him - pecks on the cheek, a hand ruffling through his hair or a thump on the back of his shoulder, “mornin’, Geralt”, respectively - his porridge was cold.

He didn’t mind. Golden eyes brimming with warm affection swept around the various faces at his dining table; he listened to the lively conversations on every topic from botany, to court politics, to the differences between chort and fiend anatomy. Everyone but Regis was sleep-ruffled - the vampire hadn’t been to bed yet, having been deep in the estate conducting research on a new type of bat that had moved into the southern field - but their voices bubbled and chirped with mirth. _Happy_.

In his wildest dreams, Geralt had never dreamt that he would ever have this.

A breakfast table full of his family - his partners, his daughter, his friends - all happy, safe, rested and well-fed. And he’d given it to them; settled, worked hard, provided them a place to stay where they could be together. No Path, no politics, no Wild Hunt, no conniving royalty or pointless wars. Just… _family_.

“Hey,” Eskel leaned across the table. “You alright?”

Geralt blinked, and then glanced down as one of Yen’s hands settled over the top of his. He looked up into her bright, beautiful violet eyes, and then across to the warm, amber pair the colour of an autumn sunset. “Yeah, never better.”


End file.
